The big brown eyes followed every movement, grow-ing wider and wider until it looked as if they might pop right out of their sockets. Not one of the animals moved as Ryan drew closer.
“Come on, come on,” he muttered. The rain was fe-rocious, lashing in from over the river valley, tearing at his face like thousands of fine wires. Ryan licked his lips, suddenly concerned that this might be an acid rain that would blister and peel his skin. Apart from a hint of salt, it tasted normal. His hair was quickly plastered to his skull, making his face seem leaner and more brutal. It trickled down inside the eye patch, and he shook his head to clear it.
87
The nearest of the mutated creatures was only five paces away from him. Though they were trembling, the fur quivering, they didn’t seem particularly frightened of the advancing man.
Ryan’s boots slopped in the loose mud that washed down from higher up the side of the wooded hill.
“Come here, out of the cold,” he whispered, bending and reaching out. His fingers touching the wet pelt, feel-ing its amazing softness. The animal made a thin, mew-ing sound, but it didn’t try to escape, and allowed the man to pick it up.
One by one he brought them into the relative warmth of the cavern. Eleven in all. They were placed gently in front of the glowing fire to dry out. The little animals didn’t try to struggle or run away, sitting where they were put, their round heads turning slowly and wonderingly to gaze at the six people. They seemed particularly fasci-nated by Krysty Wroth’s flaming red hair.
Ryan dried himself off, his shirt and pants steaming as he stood close to the warm fire. Lori picked up one of the creatures and cuddled it on her lap, whispering to it. The animal’s tiny paws touched her gently on the arm, and its eyes rolled wider and wider.
“Lovely and soft and such fat little guts,” she said.
“Fucking cute,” Jak said, grinning broadly at the row of animals, perched together, solemn-faced, like hairy, portly monks.
“Yeah,” Ryan said. “They dried out yet?”
Krysty stooped and touched one, stroking her fingers across the long fur. “Seems dry to me, Ryan. You ready for this?”
After they’d slit the throats of the cuddly little bears, they skinned them and roasted them over the fire.
The little creatures made real good eating.
Chapter Ten
Doc tanner belched and rubbed his stomach. “I beg your pardon. Considering how small those little furry bastards were, they had meat as tough as buffalo.” He sat down on the beach, tugging at his right boot. He took it off and shook a handful of grit out of it, then pulled the cracked knee boot back on. The wind had risen, and it snatched his stovepipe hat off, sending it rolling along the sand at a fine pace.
“Why not let it be gone?” Lori asked. “It was old and smelling.”
“You think so, my dear dove of the north?”
“Sure.”
The others watched, amused, as Doc rose to his feet and set off after the hat, proceeding like a stately galleon un-der full sail. His coat, an uneasy mix of gray, brown and black furs, billowed about his shrunken shanks. His tan-gled hair skittered across his narrow shoulders.
“Is he really going to dump that hat?” Krysty asked. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Must be two hundred years old, that hat,” J.B. said.
“Like throwing away part of history,” Ryan added.
“Get another easy. Look him go,” Jak said, grinning.
The wind was teasing Doc, allowing him to get almost within reach of the black hat, then flipping it away so that it rolled on its battered brim, always just below his grasp-ing fingers.
89
“Go, Doc!” Lori yelled, jumping up and down with excitement.
The hat spun into the lapping edge of the Hudson, subsiding, giving up its flight and allowing Doc Tanner to pluck it. The old man stood there for some moments In silent contemplation, holding the hat and turning it around and around, slowly, head bowed over it.
“He’s saying goodbye,” Krysty guessed.